Half an hour before class ended, the Charms classroom was unusually quiet. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixed on the desks before them.
On the long desk beside the lectern stood a row of flat-bottomed glasses filled to the brim with water. Surface tension held the water in a slight dome; the smallest jolt would spill it.
Professor Flitwick stood atop two thick cushions stacked together. He raised his small Wand steadily, its tip tracing a very short arc.
The glass nearest him lifted silently off the desk.
It did not tremble, and not a drop splashed. Its base hovered barely two inches above the wood as it glided in a straight line toward the other side.
It slowed, hovered, then settled gently.
When its base touched the wooden desk again, it made a soft tap.
The water still clung to the rim. Not a single drop had spilled down the outside.
"Making something move isn't hard. Even a first-year can send a feather up to the ceiling."
Flitwick looked around at the students holding their breath and lowered his Wand with a smile.
"But today we're practicing how to make it stop when you want it to. Move it sideways, keep it balanced, and most importantly—bleed off the excess force."
He clapped his small hands.
"One glass each. Move it from the left end of your desk to the right. If you spill any water, you clean the desk."
Soft incantations filled the classroom.
Trouble broke out as soon as practice began.
Some glasses tilted the moment they rose, dumping half their water onto the desks. Others lurched through the air, splashing as they went. But most students got stuck on the final step: water had momentum. Even if the glass stopped, the water inside did not.
Justin,